


A Different Kind of Normal

by plumprose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up Together, M/M, Magical Petunia Dursley, Slow Burn, St Mungo's Hospital, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumprose/pseuds/plumprose
Summary: In another reality, Aunt Petunia was a witch. In the same reality, Draco idolised his mother more than his father.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	1. Petunia

**Author's Note:**

> Super Slow Burn. Eventually will be Draco/Harry, but don't expect it for ages as this starts when they are toddlers. Will alternate POV between Petunia and Narcissa at first, but will progress to Draco and Harry as the boys grow up. Will add tags/characters as this goes on. Other ships undecided, up for suggestions!

When their weird, gloomy neighbour Severus Snape announced that Lily was a witch and that Petunia was not, Petunia was ready to kick that snot-nosed brat in the shins. She didn’t, but after a lot of shouting and crying, she crawled into her bed and secretly tried to wish and beg whatever was out there to let Severus Snape be wrong.

For a long time, she though that her nightly desperate begging was for nought, and that reality was as everyone said it was. Petunia was not special, but her perfect little sister was all kinds of it. Lily was a witch and Petunia was – what did he call her? – a muggle.

Until Petunia turned eleven and her Hogwarts letter came.

It was a surprise to everyone, but especially Petunia herself. Pride was swelling inside her and so was the urge to do well. The second that owl came through the window with the letter – her name neatly written on it in emerald calligraphy – she swore to be diligent and not waste that wish which came true. After all, Petunia didn’t know what was out there in the wizarding world and for all she knew, she made a pact with something, so she didn’t want to ruin her chance.

Hogwarts did not come easy to her. Good, reliable friends were hard to come by and Petunia wasn’t particularly gifted in the academics either. She did eventually gather a small group of people she could trust; and she was blessed with a diligent and hard-working personality with got her good grades through the old-fashioned way of consistent practise and study. When Lily started Hogwarts and took to it like a fish to water, bile rose in the back of Petunia’s throat. Her jealously resurfaced at the ugliest of times, but as the sisters aged, it diminished.

In the end, Lily’s effortlessness did not matter to Petunia. She was older and therefore had the chance to be the first one in many things, and to make a name for herself instead of being known as ‘Lily Evans’ older sister’. Petunia became a Prefect before Lily did and was strongly considered for the Head Girl post as well. Although she didn’t receive the latter title, the professors did tell her it was a close call. Petunia would’ve been the fourth Hufflepuff Head Girl in a row, and the Professors came to a conclusion that Elizabeth Nott should have the post to squash any rumours of house favouritism.

Petunia took it all in stride and instead appointed herself as a sort of Assistant Head Girl as one of the senior Prefects. Elizabeth didn’t particularly like her, but Petunia made herself useful and proved to be a valuable asset Elizabeth could use. There were plenty of Head Girl duties that were less than favourable, which Petunia happily fulfilled. In return, Petunia got the power and respect that she craved so much.

Hogwarts life came to an end quicker than Petunia would’ve liked. She kept herself busy in the last year, trying to pretend that the looming threat of war coming wasn’t happening and instead focusing on her career on top of her duties. When she was younger, she wanted to be a Nurse. In the wizarding world that would make her a Healer or Mediwitch – which was closer to Doctor, which Petunia did not mind at all. Besides, as a Trainee Healer she would be assisting the more senior Mediwizards and doing jobs with similar duties to the ones of a Nurse.

Upon graduation, she had stellar recommendation letters from her Professors (including one from Madame Pomfrey!), NEWT certification that was the result of many sleepless study nights and knowledge that there was a severe staff deficiency problem at St Mungo’s. When she applied, she didn’t have any issues getting the position. She quickly rose through the ranks of the Trainee Healers and was known as one of the better ones to have on hand – forever efficient and level-headed in a crisis. There was an air of no-nonsense to her when she was on shift. As life would have it though, even her limits were pushed to the edge.

Everything came crashing seemingly at once. Around a year into her training, Petunia’s parents fell ill, and she had to move back home to take care of them. Lily got married not long after, not wanting her parents not to be there for her wedding. She took care of them when Petunia was on shift. The Wizarding War started. Lily fell pregnant. Petunia was promoted to a full Healer ahead of the training schedule, the war effort requiring all hands-on deck. Between the bloody shifts at St. Mungo’s patching up Aurors only to send them back out again, Lily gave birth and went into hiding. Mr and Mrs Evans died.

The funeral happened.

Petunia couldn’t even get in touch with her sister to tell her.

She wasn’t going to pretend that she didn’t break down during that time. There were times she hid in the supply closed trying to stop her uncontrollable shaking as she wiped snot and tears from her chin and bloodied hands. She went home to an empty house, lived mostly off of cheap take-away and spent hours at night wondering if she made the right decisions.

It was as if Petunia blinked and missed months of her life, because the next thing she knew, the war was over and Lily was dead. Petunia found out after coming out from a thirteen-hour surgery to try and save what was left of Alastor Moody’s leg, to be tackled into a wet hug by a co-worker. The other Healer was in tears that Petunia wasn’t sure were happiness, pain or both. She managed to choke out the news and how Lily Potter orphaned a son – the Boy-Who-Lived.

Petunia wasn’t heartless. She wasn’t about to find out about her orphaned nephew and leave him to some strangers. The Healer-in-Charge for her ward sent her home after the surgery and cancelled her next shift after hearing the news. Petunia was about to fight him as she needed the money, but she didn’t know how long it would take to locate her nephew. He wasn’t admitted to St Mungo’s, that much she knew.

It took some time to find him. He was not with his Godfather – who was freshly admitted to Azkaban. She found out he was also not with one of the other of James’ friends – Lupin was bedridden and Pettigrew was dead. Petunia finally managed to get a lead in Albus Dumbledore and after a heated discussion, she finally had the child safely in her arms. Harry James was his name – after his great-grandfather and his father. He was a small child, with a tuft of black hair and the horrid scar on his forehead. Petunia made a mental note that she needed to make an appointment with a Paediatric Healer to see him as soon as possible.

She took Harry to the house she grew up in, where she was greeted only with silence. It dawned on her in that moment that she never thought about having children. She had no one in the world left, and the house has not seen a child in it for a decade. In that moment, she sat down in her father’s favourite armchair, cradled Harry to her chest and cried.

*

The first few days were terrifying, the first few weeks were dreadful and the first few months were just bearable.

Petunia was blessed that her Healer-in-Charge considered her situation appropriate for maternity leave. She had a few paid months to sort out her affairs and get used to motherhood.

It was going to take a long time for Petunia to look at Harry and not immediately think of Lily. She couldn’t make the child guilty for reminding her of her perfect little sister. They got along better in the few years before her death, so thankfully Petunia had more than bitter memories to draw up. Didn’t make it any easier for her most of the time though, as he was a reminder that her family seemed to have dropped like flies.

She tried her best not to think about it and busy herself with taking care of Harry. She braved the attic during one of his nap times and pulled out the old nursery furniture from when Petunia and Lilly were babies.

She set it up in what used to be the room she shared with Lily as a child. She painted the solid-wood furniture with a fresh coat of sunshine-yellow, the muggle way. For the walls, she chose to use magic and let Harry pick the colour – although young, his eyes lit up and he started clapping when the walls became a lovely shade of green. Petunia kept a single bed in there for herself, temporarily. When Harry grows older, she’d move it out, but it meant that she wouldn’t have to disturb the only other bedroom in the house – her parents’ room, which was kept firmly shut.

Harry was young and still confused by his parents missing, so it was easier for her to just stay the night. A lot of the time, he slept with her instead of in the cot – nightmares plaguing them both.

He turned out to be a sweet one year old, even when he left Petunia stressed and feeling entirely unprepared for taking care of him.

Petunia had to deal with Lily and James’ funeral. It was a small affair, which she didn’t advertise to many as she wanted to say her goodbyes in peace away from crowds. She took Harry to where it was held in Godric’s Hollow, under privacy wards. Remus Lupin turned up – albeit hesitant – and Petunia gave him her address so he could visit Harry. He looked run down, broken and tired – but so did everyone else. The war didn’t pick and choose its victims. All that mattered to Petunia was that Harry recognised him and clearly wanted his attention.

A few more of the people Petunia remembered to be Lily and James’ friends turned up. She spent a full day writing out owl invitations to those she remembered Lily mentioning to her. Albus Dumbledore did, but he kept his distance from her and Harry. Severus Snape was there, uninvited by her, but Petunia pursed her lips and didn’t say anything. It was a funeral. She wasn’t going to cause a scene.

The affair over, she settled the finances at Gringotts. A key to Harry’s trust fund was passed to her, which was to be used for anything he’d ever need. There was plenty of gold in there and Petunia was grateful as was worried at how she’d be able to afford everything for Hogwarts when the time would come. That being said, she wasn’t about to splash it on any frivolous thing. He also received the land that once held the cottage in Godric’s Hollow and a note from James that mentioned a cloak left in Dumbledore’s possession. Petunia had to remember to contact the Headmaster to retrieve it.

To her surprise, she was also given a decent sum of gold. She cried, which she found herself doing an awful lot lately, because now she could afford to make her parents’ house more comfortable for her and Harry with it. It was still a muggle property and it could do with magical protections and updates. The Healer’s wage wasn’t an awful lot of money as St Mungo’s ran mostly on charity and donations.

Petunia picked up most of the necessities within the first few days of Harry being with her, but while they were at Diagon Alley, there were still some things she wanted to get initially.

Petunia felt comfortable taking Harry to a magical toy shop and let him pick out a few things – one of them being a toy broomstick she had a feeling she’s quickly regret. She made sure to get some more muggle toys as well, in hopes of not completely destroying the house during Harry’s playtime. A quick stop by _Flourish and Blotts_ also picked up a few books – most for Harry, but she did get some romance novels from the bargain bin for herself.

Harry was getting grumpy shortly after the excitement of picking colourful books from the bookshop died down, so Petunia swiftly took him home as soon as she could. A crying toddler in public was the last thing she’d want to deal with.

Home meant putting Harry in the high chair in the kitchen with his new toys and books (broomstick safely locked away for when she could hire someone to ward the garden from muggle eyes). It meant checking his nappy, giving him a small snack before dinner and cleaning up the mess from breakfast she didn’t have time to do that morning. Starting dinner for herself and one for Harry (her co-workers sent her pamphlets and books on raising toddlers, including proper nutrition). Eating said dinners. Clean up. A disaster in the bathroom as Harry almost flooded the bath with bubbles using accidental magic. Getting Harry ready for bed. Reading him one of _The_ _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and quietly getting ready for bed herself as he slept in his cot. Managing to read a few pages of her new romance novel before she passed out herself. Waking up to Harry crying from nightmares in the middle of the night. Tucking him back in next to her, singing tunelessly a lullaby she barely remembered the words to. Eventually both of them falling asleep, only to wake early the next morning.

Days passed. The appointment she made with the Healer for Harry came up, so she packed up a travel bag with their things and made her way to St Mungo’s, which she hasn’t visited since the start of her ‘maternity’ leave.

Whilst waiting for the appointment, Petunia met a plump, pleasant witch named Molly Weasley who was there with her own child around Harry’s age. The boys were happily playing together as they waited.

“Is he your first one?” Molly asked, looking over at Harry handing magical letter blocks to Ron. “Ronnie’s my sixth, I can’t believe how much time flies!”

“Harry’s my sister’s. She passed recently.” Petunia replied politely. “I have no children of my own.”

“I’m glad he still has you then. Merlin knows there’s plenty of little ones with no family left these days. Children are a gift to the world.” Molly smiled, rubbing her clearly pregnant belly. “How are you managing it? While they are a gift, they are also a handful.”

“I’m handling it.” Petunia said, almost believing her own words. She knew that the dark under her eyes would give her away, but she still pretended. “It’s just unexpected. I’m only worrying for when I have to get back to work.”

“There’s Little Wizard’s Nursery. I know plenty of witches who send their babies there. Personally, I like to raise them at home, but not everyone has that privilege. I think Ronnie here wouldn’t mind a few longer play dates in the future either, it would be good for him to have a friend he’s not related to.” Molly laughed.

Petunia was glad she met the kind woman, both deciding to exchange owl addresses. Harry seemed to be agreeing with Ron as well, the two of them babbling at each other and playing with the letter blocks. Whenever they managed to spell out a word, the blocks announced the word. Naturally, any words they found were very much accidental and mostly three or four letters. Petunia and Molly shared a giggle when the boys spelled out ‘butt’. The boys noticed their laughter and copied the behaviour without skipping a beat.

The appointment itself was longer than expected, but not entirely unpleasant. In the end Petunia was glad she took Harry though – the poor Healer was baffled at the scar. After the initial freak out of treating the Boy-Who-Lived, Petunia reminded him that he’s still at his job and whilst she’s on leave, she would expect him to still act professionally. Healer Verde calmed down after that and got to work.

From what they understood, the scar wasn’t harming the child, but something was _there._ The hypothesis was residual magic from You-Know-Who, which needed to be monitored with consistent appointments. Healer Verde would recommend Harry to specialist mind and dark magic Healers who would take over the case in following appointments. At the moment, it was most important that it wasn’t going to affect the boy’s development for the time being.

Petunia was naturally worried, but calm by the idea that there was no immediate danger. She wasn’t ready to lose another person in her life.

When her maternity was coming to an end, Petunia would herself shocked that she was getting used to her new normal. Sure, she had bad days and so did Harry. There were times she wished that she gave Harry up to Lupin or someone else. When she turned and saw _Lily_ and _so much of her parents it hurt._ But there were also times when Harry looked up at her as if she was the whole entire world, with so much warmth and love that she couldn’t possibly say no to him. When she realised that she hadn’t had a take-away in months, that all her meals were cooked even if they weren’t _fancy._ There were days that Harry cried and screamed because she wasn’t his parents.

It wasn’t perfect, but it sort-of worked, most of the time. It had to, because all they had was each other.


	2. Narcissa

The Malfoy Manor stood like a great monument amongst the vast Wiltshire grounds surrounding it, carving a silhouette of shadow against the dusk. The ancient ancestral home that hid all the secrets of the Malfoy family since the land was given to Armand Malfoy by King William I before the Statue of Secrecy was even a thought in anyone’s head.

It was burning.

Wild, blonde hair billowed in the wind that rose suddenly in the valley, Narcissa Malfoy stood watching the East Wing burn with the brilliant red of _Fiendfyre._ She held a sleeping Draco on her hip and her wand with her spare hand, as she waited for the right time to cast the charm to end the fire. When the beasts licking the ancient rooms with tongues of flames, devouring irreplaceable artefacts and tomes, removed even the memories that Narcissa no longer wanted in her home.

A crack sounded behind her as her husband approached her in the gardens, but Narcissa did not bother turning to face him. She heard him stop a few steps behind her, undoubtedly wondering what’s gone through her mind.

“Narcissa, stop that this instant.”

“No, Lucius.”

Narcissa heard him stalk up to her and swiftly moved herself out of his way as he tried to grab at her wand arm.

“You touch me Lucius and the manor will truly burn down. Don’t forget that out of the two of us, only I managed to perfect the counter charm to _Fiendfyre.”_ Narcissa hissed at him, turning her head sharply towards where he stumbled forward through the grass, losing his footing.

He glared at her, but did not move any further towards her.

“That’s my _ancestral home_ , what would you have me do?” Lucius snarled at her.

“Oh, don’t fret. I will not let it spread beyond the East Wing.” Narcissa said easily and noticed the immediate recognition on Lucius’ face, followed by panic.

“ _He will be back.”_ Lucius bit through clenched teeth. “The Dark Lord will be back and what will we do then?”

Narcissa scoffed and adjusted Draco on her hip. He was still sleeping soundly as she had the foresight to put him under a _Muffliato._ She glanced over at the _Fiendfyre_ wreaking havoc on the manor – she still had time before she wanted it to end.

“Do you really think I did not think of that?” She spat out, baring her teeth in a way very unlike her. She had never defied her husband – or any man of importance in her life for that matter – in such a way. However, the bundle of joy resting at her hip made her reconsider her actions. “We don’t know when he will be back, or for that matter, in what state. You know as well as I do that magic like that would have terrible consequences. I will not have my family risk their lives over this.”

“ _Narcissa-“_

“No, Lucius. I will not bite back my tongue anymore; I am your wife and you will listen to me. The Dark Lord has been trying to win this war for decades – your father was a Death Eater and you took the mark before we even married! Don’t you think if he was to win, he’d have done so by now?”

“These things take time –“

“ _My sister and her husband are in Azkaban._ Your parents died fighting! My mother is in St Mungo’s and might not live to see Draco’s second birthday. My father lost his wand arm for the Dark Lord.” Narcissa seethed. “We have lost so much; and for what? For the Dark Lord to be killed by a half-blood defenceless baby. I will not lose my only son to this war _and I will not lose you!”_

In that moment, Lucius did not see the Narcissa Malfoy he married. Not the sharp-witted, but quiet and polite pureblood lady, the silent supporter every well-respecting pureblood man would want. Her pale eyes shone with the unmistakable insanity of the Black genes, hair wild and sparking with wild magic. In that moment, that was Narcissa Black like he had never seen her before. A woman protecting her family, her child and ready to burn the world if it meant getting her way.

“He will come after us.” Lucius managed to say quietly, after a long stretch of silence.

“ _If_ he come back, he will be severely disadvantaged. Everything he was working on is currently in our home and by the time I finish, it will be nothing but ash. _You_ were his General, his most trusted. The Death Eaters would trust your word.” Narcissa pointed out.

“You’re asking him to openly defy him.” Lucius stepped back bewildered.

“No, I’m asking you to put away our beliefs, our pretend loyalties and _protect your family.”_ Narcissa pushed. “The Dark Lord was convenient in trying to uphold pureblood beliefs, but he has not succeeded. He’s not here and we will need to deal with the consequences and pray to Morgana we do not end up in Azkaban.”

Narcissa knew she was right. Lucius may not think that at the time, but ever since she became pregnant, she had a feeling that the Dark Lord would not be the saviour the purebloods needed. Not when he spent years leeching off of her family with no end in night. Not when Lucius had to sneak onto the battlefield and risk his life to collect his mother’s corpse without the Aurors catching him. Not when there was no body to bury for Abraxas Malfoy, who disintegrated into dust the moment his heart stopped beating because of the mark on his forearm. Not when Draco was born and the first words Narcissa heard the Dark Lord exchange with her husband were that _Draco would take the mark the moment he grew old enough._

Those were not words of a man who knew the war would be over soon. Those were the words of a man prolonging fate, who knew that the fight could go on past Lucius’ lifetime or even Draco’s. That it did not matter to him how long it would take.

Narcissa would be dead and haunting the manor sooner than she would let that happen.

She watched as Lucius took the information in and then turned to stare at the fire. By that point the flames were licking the exterior walls, shattered glass from the windows falling to the ground as it all burned. Then – then there was a _shriek._ An inhuman scream that cut through the wind. It came from inside the East Wing.

“Who was in there Narcissa.”

“No one.” She replied honestly. “I made all the house elves leave the building. No wizards are on the property except for us.”

The scream continued as they stood with no words said between them after that. They waited until it stopped and witnessed a wisp of something fly through the broken windows and evaporate in the night air. They waited a bit longer, until Narcissa decided that it was enough. She handed the still-sleeping Draco to Lucius and moved towards the manor to end the _Fiendfyre._

*

It was a couple of weeks before anything was done about the burnt down part of the manor. Lucius and Narcissa stood at the edge of the ruin, a perfectly straight line separating the East Wing from the untouched parts of the manor.

“My office was in that wing.” Lucius mentioned, although there was no bite to his words.

“So was the Dark Lord’s, as well as his quarters and Merlin knows what else he kept there.” Narcissa replied, not bothering to hide her distaste to not knowing what was happening in her own home. “It was all evidence pointing against us.”

“So, everything in that wing is currently ash.”

“I moved the Malfoy Grimoire and anything I deemed appropriate to save back to the treasury.”

Lucius relaxed, visibly relieved to hear that information. Narcissa wasn’t stupid, she checked over the wing for anything she wanted to keep before she released the spell. The Grimoire was the most important heirloom of any wizard household – what it was doing out of the concealed crypt in the treasury and in the Dark Lord’s wing, she didn’t know. Besides it, she collected the portraits that she didn’t hate (and felt perverse pleasure in burning those which looked down at her) and any heirlooms and documentation that would be difficult to replace.

Of course, anything she knew that the Dark Lord touched or brought in remained in the wing.

“What do we do with it now?”

“Restore it.” Narcissa said simply. She decided to inspect it, walking in and stepping over charred debris. “I have a few ideas for a lovely sunroom. The ground floor could open up to the peacock gardens. Perhaps a new play room for Draco. We could even celebrate the renovation with a ball for the elite and the Ministry. Solidify our good standing.”

Lucius trailed after her, pulling at the hem of his robe to avoid brushing it against the soot as much as he could. Narcissa paid him little mind, ducking her head to avoid the dismounted coffered ceiling pieces.

“People are weary of us now.”

“I know.” Narcissa hummed. “I promised you that we will get through this and I do have a plan. It is risky, but believable.”

She stepped into what used to be a guest parlour, assessing the ruined velvet sofas and antique furniture that the Malfoy ancestors collected even before the Statue of Secrecy was in place. They were muggle antiques from when the Malfoys entertained and mingled with the muggle elite. Something that the most recent family would rather people forgot, but Narcissa was born a Black and Blacks knew everyone’s dirty secrets.

“Well, what is it?” Lucius asked. He followed her in and was looking at what was left of a stained-glass window. Narcissa remembered that it used to portray a fairy garden. She would need to commission another one to be made by an artisan, she was rather fond of it.

“Do you remember Petunia Evans?” Narcissa chose to respond with her own question.

“She was in your year, Hufflepuff was it?” Lucius frowned. “A mudblood if I’m not mistaken. Used to follow Elizabeth Nott around.”

“Yes. Also, the older sister of Lily Potter, Harry Potter’s mother.” Narcissa smiled, picking up a broken shard of glass. It was green. “She’s also a rather trusted Healer at St. Mungo’s.”

“Darling, what does she have to do with anything?”

Narcissa did not miss his use of the pet name. Lucius only ever called her that when he wanted to placate her and wished she got to the point faster. Narcissa did like to extend her conversations and stories for as long as possible, toying with what she wanted to say and trying to get her listener to get to the conclusion themselves. Preferably put words in their mouth.

Lucius preferred her to be much more straight forward, unless there was company.

“She owes me a favour from the school days still, Lucius.” Narcissa said. “To avoid prosecution as Death Eaters, we will need to claim to have been bewitched. A Healer would need to provide a statement to vouch for that. No one would question it, if it came from the woman who’s currently housing the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Lucius raised a thin, pale eyebrow at her.

“And, pray tell, how will you convince her to not go straight to the Ministry with just a school time promise.”

Narcissa hummed in agreement, carefully assessing the charred, peeling wallpaper. She wondered if a brighter colour would bring the room together better in the future.

“When you’re sixteen and a mudblood, you won’t care about the consequences of an Unbreakable Vow if it means avoiding expulsion from Hogwarts.”

Lucius paused, considering his wife’s words.

“What could a Hufflepuff do to result in being expelled?”

“You know that I can’t tell you, Lucius. Unless you want a dead woman for a wife.” Narcissa smiled thinly. “I have never called on her side of the bargain however and I’m glad for it. I will make an appointment with her at St. Mungo’s in a month, Camilla Bullstrode mentioned she will be back from her leave then.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, dear husband, we need to act as if we have just woken from a bewitchment and begin to whisper in the right people’s ears to solidify their trust in us.” Narcissa stepped over to her husband, taking his chin in her slender hand. “A loving, but misguided family who are trying to repent for what hurt they may have caused in their bewitchment. A few large, charitable donations would not go amiss either.”

She guided his head down lower towards hers and left a chaste kiss on his lips. It was all going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Narcissa, who puts family values over anything else in the world! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think so far!


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